London Was My Lover

London was my lover, but we haven’t seen each other in a while.

He was exciting.

He took pride in taking me to exclusive places, showing me new sights and the latest crazes, but he was fickle. On some nights, I felt as though I was the only person in his arms; on others, I quickly realised I would only ever be a small part of his grandeur. 

People who meet London in their later life are seduced by him. They flock towards him because he embodies a type of status that isn’t often found in one man. He is the highs and the lows of culture and class; he knows all about the arts, both high-brow and grassroots. For many, this magnificence doesn’t disappoint. It can hold people in awe for years, so much so that they could never contemplate leaving him for a simpler, more wholesome companion.

London and I had an eventful few years together, but I don’t think I gave myself fully to him. He always felt familiar to me; he was my home for a long time, but perhaps only by dint of the fact that nobody else was. 

Just as I became old enough to start falling for London on my own terms, I fell into a brief fling with Cyprus – a more relaxed companion. Our time together was a perpetual summer haze. I didn’t think too deeply about him as I thought I could never settle down with somebody so simple, so we drifted between cafes and beaches and sitting on plastic furniture on friends’ balconies until I left him with almost as much indifference as when I arrived.

Looking back, I can see I sabotaged this relationship because I couldn’t let go of London for long enough to see Cyprus for who he really was. Comparing his every move to London was futile, and it stopped me from appreciating the importance of kindness, generosity, and safety. In the years after leaving, I often experience an intense longing to be backwhere the sun is limitless and the humid evenings dissolve into slow mornings.

My Mediterranean betrayal meant that London started to leave me behind, and it became more and more difficult to be with him. I watched his new companions immersing themselves into the best parts of him, experiencing sides of him I couldn’t access. He became gratified with the attention, prioritising status and money over loyalty. I soon realised that, if you can’t keep up with his rhythm, life can become arduous; he won’t let you forget the queue of suitors waiting at the door. And while I sometimes feel a sense of pride as I watch those new to his charms flaunting their relationship, it’s always accompanied with a deep, upsetting resentment. 

In characteristic haste, I ran away to Scotland for a year. He was strong but unsympathetic and I fell into him without the correct defences, and I was soon overpowered. His beauty felt harsh. I began to resent his firm grip and I longed for the heat of Cyprus or the familiarity of London. A grey year passed, and I left Scotland with a stronger sense of myself, but a disquieting feeling that I had been blind to his allure.

After a brief fling with London again, I jumped into bed with Dubai. He’s much too young for me, has a perfect tan, and is very tall. His clothes are impeccable, but he isn’t particularly kind to waiters. Dubai has a reputation of exploitation; his ability to provide his partners with an attractive lifestyle means that many choose to ignore his immorality. There are some who see behind his shiny facade – they take what they can before running back to the comfort of past relationships, but some remain complacent, comfortable, and complicit. I didn’t want to become complicit, and I left.

Great loves aren’t easy, and are rarely linear. And despite our distance and differences, I can’t deny that I still define myself in London’s terms. All other relationships are compared to London and judged according to his standards; he is the centre around which I make sense of the world. Our relationship colours my time with other people, and I return to him having been changed by our time apart. He greets me, sometimes a little grumpily, but I know he’ll always welcome me back for a quick visit because that’s part of his charm – he allows for transience.

I haven't seen him in a while, and maybe I’ll never be with him again, but London will always be my lover.